It is the 28th March 2025 – one whole year since the publication of Girl Unmasked: How Uncovering My Autism Saved My Life. One year ago today, at my book launch, I stood at the front of a room packed with almost everyone I loved and cried for a solid twenty minutes. I couldn’t believe I had made it out of those years that I’d written about alive. I couldn’t help the feeling of guilt, for those who hadn’t made it through. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to feel so loved.
Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being an author and writing stories. I never imagined that I would write a memoir – but my anger at what I had been through and what I saw so many others going through meant that there were a lot of things that I needed to tell the world. It felt like I had been failed to some extent, and the more that I found out others were being failed too, the angrier and sadder I became.
Except, by the time it came to publication, I was terrified. About people I knew and loved reading about my life. About strangers making judgements. About jeopardising my career for no reason. I overthought all of my decisions, wondering if 19-year-old me had made the decision to share Girl Unmasked with the world. I was 22 when it was released but 19 when I wrote the first draft and 20 when I signed with my literary agent. I had made myself vulnerable and I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
I had been warned about the anticlimax of book publishing. Authors often describe a ‘crash’ when the book is actually released, because the publishing process is so drawn out and long. The first weekend after Girl Unmasked’s release, I climbed to the top of a hill and declared to literally nobody that I wanted the anticlimax to hit. I recognise the privilege in this, but I just felt so overwhelmed. I had a meltdown and switched my phone off for eight hours.
Those few months were chaotic. I made the Sunday Times Bestseller list (a literal life highlight). I had an event at Waterstones where I some some amazing young people. I was on the front page of BBC News (slightly terrifying). The weeks flew by, my days spent at my 9-5 job then coming home to an avalanche of messages and demands from both the online world and the writing career I had stumbled upon. Messages started flooding in. From families who had been through similar experiences to mine. From professionals wanting to let me know how much my book had helped. Young people telling me Girl Unmasked had changed their life – sometimes even saved their life, something I can’t even fathom. I felt such a weight of responsibility.
But these messages reminded me why I had written Girl Unmasked in the first place. Who I had written it for. The book is dedicated to my parents, for fighting for me when I couldn’t fight for myself. But, really, I wrote the book for 16-year-old me, who needed the professionals around her to understand. Who needed to know why she was different and needed hope that there was a place for her in the world. Whenever I go back to that fact, the anxiety around people reading it fades. Girl Unmasked started because I was angry at my own experiences and I needed a way of releasing that anger. It was published because of my anger at how many others were experiencing similar journeys to myself.
